The MummyAll Screwed Up
by Diamond210
Summary: The plotline of The Mummy just got very, VERY twisted.
1. A Night at the Kasbah

A/N: Well, here's my version of The Mummy, completely screwed up with.um.creativity abound. It is told from the point of view of one of my original characters, Taylor Drew.  
  
THE MUMMY---All Screwed Up  
  
Chapter I: A Night At the Kasbah  
  
It all started that night at some kasbah. . .well, technically, it started about 3,000 years ago, but now I'm getting ahead of myself. Or, behind myself. . .Anyway, I was eavesdropping, as usual. You never really know what you're going to learn---a few things I wish I never had, admittedly. Anyway, it was a rather unusual conversation, I must say, between a very inebriated American whose name I later found was O'Connell, and an English pick-pocket I learned was named Jonathan. It was one of those typical, deep and intelligent conversations between two people who can't even presently remember their names:  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Heh."  
  
"What's that?" at this point, our esteemed Englishman motioned at an odd little box dear Mr. O'Connell held.  
  
"Uh. . .a box."  
  
"Can I see it?"  
  
Now, really people, would you actually respond to that? Would you honestly give over your odd box to some stranger? I soon learned that Mr. O'Connell was not of the intelligent race of human beings (this race including my invalid brother, Rob, whom I had left home with his teddy bear).  
  
"Sure," O'Connell forked it over. Jonathan glanced around for a moment, then turned and ran. After a delayed reaction time, the American ran after him, shouting. I figured that's the last I'd see of them. How wrong I was. I also never figured that that box had any significance to my quest for Hamunaptra, but once again, I was very, very wrong. 


	2. Discourgement at the Museum of Antiquiti...

A/N: One important thing to remember is that this IS The Mummy ALL SCREWED UP. The original plotline has been twisted and used vaguely (for lack of a better word).  
  
Chapter II: Discouragement at the Museum of Antiquities  
  
Now, I'm no genius, but I know where to find information on ancient places like Hamunaptra. So that's why I drug my "dear" brother, Rob, to the Museum of Antiquities. Now, this normally isn't the kind of place I'd be going to, but, hey, what you need to know, you need to know.  
  
Anyway, when I came in, the room was a mess! Some snooty old guy with a fez pushed by me in his anger and frustration to get out of there, which didn't leave me with too much hope for the librarian or tour guide that I was sure to run into.  
  
Looking across the tornado-swept-appearing room, I just barely spotted the top of a frizzy brown bun.  
  
"Hey!" I called.  
  
The most stereotypical librarian ever turned around to meet me.  
  
"How may I help you?" she asked, nearly out of breath as she climbed and spelunked through the mass of bookshelves and paper.  
  
"I need some information on. . .ancient cities," I asked carefully.  
  
"Ancient cities, you say? What sort of ancient cities, may I ask? I mean. . .is there one in particular?" she replied in one of those staunch, stuffy British accent that categorizes prudes like her.  
  
"Well. . .um, I need information on. . .Hamunaptra--"  
  
She choked. "H-Hamunaptra? What would you like to know about Hamunaptra?"  
  
"Where it's located! If all the stories are true. It's all--" I stood, trying to think up an excuse and, sadly, the first thing that came to me was: "it's all government business-and. . .I need to. . .know. . .right away, so. . .now."  
  
The librarian raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Government business? What does the government want with Hamunaptra?"  
  
"I can't tell you or else I'll. . .go to jail." Man, I think Rob's come up with better excuses, and he normally just communicates with grunts and snorts.  
  
"I see. Well, I'm sorry, miss, but as you see, our library is in a bit of a spot right now. I don't think I could find anything for you on Hamunaptra at this moment even if I had the slightest inclination as to where to find it."  
  
I sighed, finding that this wasn't getting me anywhere. Rob decided at this moment that he would open his mouth and enlighten us:  
  
"Go. Else. Somewhere."  
  
I wasn't kidding when I told you that he was an invalid.  
  
Just then, a tall Englishman came sauntering in the room, apparently having some great thing on his mind.  
  
"Evy! Evy!"  
  
So that was the prude's name.  
  
"Evy, should we go show the Curator the--"  
  
She interrupted him quickly, as if covering up his next words.  
  
"Excuse my brother, Jonathan. He's a might-touched, at times," Evy added, shooting him a glare. Suddenly, realization hit me. Jonathan. . .Jonathan from the kasbah?!  
  
"Believe me, I know exactly how you feel," I replied, glancing at Rob, who at that moment had a very large dribble of drool about to drip to the floor. "Well, thanks for your help, but I best be on."  
  
Rob and I left, disheartened. The busy sidewalk of Cairo apparently held a pair just as frustrated as I was.  
  
"Can you believe this!" one was shouting, apparently an American, as I myself am.  
  
"Daniels! He always falls out when stuff gets tough. Sick with yeller fever- I don't believe it!" the other responded in agreement.  
  
"Why, I'll shoot that yeller-bellied snake myself for keepin' us from Ham- UN-aptra another week! And I'm tellin' ya, Burns, that guide Gay-bor and that Egypt-oler-gyst Chamberlain ain't gonna wait forever."  
  
Now, that, of course, caught my attention. I stepped directly in their path, halting them for a moment.  
  
"Move it, lady!"  
  
"Yeah, we got stuff to do!"  
  
"Excuse me," I responded, ignoring their rudeness. "I was just wondering about a certain, um, man that you were talking about."  
  
They looked at each other, one switching his chew to the other side of his cheek.  
  
"Yeh?"  
  
"Uh, what was that Gabor's first name? I'm looking for, uh, one of my old classmates, and. . .one's name was Gabor!" My gosh, do I just keep getting lamer, or what?  
  
The blonde one with the chew spit out a lovely stream of tobacco juice before answering me.  
  
"First name? Oh, it was somethin' normal. . .like, uh. . .what was it, Burns?"  
  
Burns shrugged. "It was like foreign. Like Dari. . .or Hikomungo. . .or, wait, I think it was. . .Beni. That's right. I remember now 'cause I thought it was all foreign-soundin'."  
  
I raised my eyebrows. "So, do you know where I could find him?"  
  
The two exchanged smirking glances. "Ah, heck, lady, you'd find him in any kasbah or bay-zaar around here."  
  
I smiled sweetly. "Thank you very much."  
  
They continued on their way, cursing their friend, as a little smile crossed my face. 'Any kasbah or bazaar', huh? And I know just the place to start. 


End file.
